


In Sickness and In Health

by sinnerforhire



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnerforhire/pseuds/sinnerforhire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you spend sixteen hours a day together, passing germs around is inevitable.  Sick!Jared, sick!Jensen, sick!Misha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jensen's phone chirps twice. Jensen sighs, puts down the book he's reading, and heads upstairs. He pokes his head into Jared's room. "What do you need?"

"To not be sick anymore," Jared grumbles, coughing. He's surrounded by crumpled-up tissues and cough drop wrappers.

Jensen smiles softly. "Sorry, that one's outta my hands." He takes a step into the overly-warm room and glances at the nightstand, which is even more of a mess than the bed. "I'll get you more water. Anything else from the kitchen?"

"I don't want water."

Jensen stifles a sigh. "What do you want?"

"Tea," Jared replies hoarsely.

"Okay." Jensen picks up the oversized mug from the nightstand.

"With honey."

"I know."

"Don't squeeze the lemon."

Jensen turns his back to Jared and makes a face. "I got it, Jay." He taps the doorframe. "I'll be right back."

Jensen rolls his eyes and haves a huge sigh on his way down the stairs. If he'd known that moving in with Jared meant signing on for _this_, he'd have thought twice. Jared can break bones without batting an eye, but a tickle in his throat turns him into the world's tallest toddler.

He puts the kettle on the stove and takes the dogs out briefly. It's a wet, miserable night and the other overgrown children don't want to cooperate when he tries to wipe their paws.

"Knock it off," he snaps. They just look at him with wide, innocent eyes. _Who, me? I wasn't misbehaving. Nope, not I_.

Jensen shuts the door a little harder than he needs to and grabs the shrieking kettle off the burner. He makes the tea to Jared's exacting specifications, grabs another bottle of water out of the fridge for good measure, and heads upstairs. He can hear Jared coughing from halfway up. He frowns. _That's not good._

Jared's curled on his side, hacking up a lung. Jensen sets the drinks down on the nightstand and pulls Jared upright, patting his back with one hand and bracing his undoubtedly sore ribs with the other. The coughing slows, then finally stops, and Jared slumps against Jensen's chest, moaning. Jensen brings Jared's head to rest on his shoulder and brushes Jared's sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. His fever has risen, as it did after sundown last night and the night before that. Jensen glances at the clock on the dresser and is not pleased with the display. He can't give Jared more Theraflu for another hour and a half. So, time for plan B.

When he tries to get up, Jared whimpers and weakly grabs his hand. "Don' go," he mutters.

"I'll be back in a second," Jensen replies quietly. He carefully disentangles Jared and eases him down on the pillows. Jared coughs a few times, but it's not as violent as before.

Jensen retrieves a plastic basin from under the bathroom sink and fills it with lukewarm water. He grabs a clean washcloth from the towel rack and carries both into the bedroom. Jared's dopey and loose-limbed as Jensen pulls the covers back and removes his damp t-shirt. He gazes blankly at Jensen with fever-glazed eyes. Jensen wrings out the washcloth and gently rubs it over Jared's flushed cheeks, his burning forehead, down his neck to his chest. Jared sighs and coughs lightly. Jensen wets the washcloth and repeats the process. Jared's eyes flutter closed; two minutes later he's asleep.

When Jared coughs himself awake an hour later, Jensen takes the opportunity to get more Theraflu and the reheated tea into him. Jared's face contorts in pain every time he has to swallow and finally Jensen can't bear to watch it anymore. He stands and starts gathering the trash together. The small garbage can is overflowing as it is, but Jensen just tamps it down as best he can and shoves the rest in.

Jensen sits down on the edge of the bed and yawns. It's after midnight; he's got to get up in less than six hours. He's going to have suitcase-sized bags under his eyes tomorrow and he's going to catch hell for it. He sighs. "I'm going to bed, Jay. What do you need before I go?" Jared just sniffles and says nothing. Jensen stands up. "I'll get you another shirt. Are you cold?"

"A little," Jared murmurs.

Jensen gets a long-sleeved shirt out of the drawer and wrestles Jared into it, then pulls the comforter up to his chin. "Want me to leave the hall light on?"

"Yeah." Jared sniffles. "Are you going to work tomorrow?"

"I have to. You know that."

"Want you to stay."

Jensen shakes his head. "Sorry, man. I wish I could. But they're gonna have enough problems without you there." He smiles to try and take the sting out of the words. "Get some rest. I'll check up on you before I leave."

*~*~*~*~*

"Jeez, you look like shit," says Misha. "What the hell did you get up to last night?"

Jensen yawns and drops into the chair across from him. "Jared's got the flu. I was up most of the night with him."

"Awww, that's so sweet. Did you read him a bedtime story and tuck him in?"

Jensen glares at him. "Fuck you."

"You wish." Misha pushes the new pages across the table to Jensen. He picks up the sheaf of papers and tries to read the first page, but the words are too blurry to make out. He squints down at them and is suddenly aware of the headache pounding behind his eyes. He drops the pages and rubs his eyes until he sees spots. When he opens them again, Misha is frowning at him in concern. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Let's do this." Jensen pushes his chair closer to the table and leans forward so he can see better.

They have to run the lines several times before Jensen can even get them all out correctly. Misha is patient and encouraging, but Jensen can't help getting frustrated. After fumbling the line about Lilith _again_, he slaps the table and exhales sharply. "Shit, man, I'm sorry."

Misha stands up. "I'm gonna grab a bottle of water. You want one?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." Jensen starts to get up, but Misha puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him down.

"Stay put. I'll be right back."

Jensen sighs and puts his head down on the table. He doesn't know what's wrong with him today; yeah, he's a little sleep deprived, but that's nothing new, really. He's been sleep deprived for four years now. It comes with the territory.

Next thing he knows, someone's shaking his shoulder. "Go 'way," he mumbles, trying to shrug the hand off.

"They need us on set now," says Misha. He sounds apologetic. Jensen sits up and winces at the sharp stab of pain in his head. He groans and Misha squeezes his shoulder lightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jensen replies weakly. He starts to get to his feet, but the room tilts on its axis and Misha has to grab him to keep him from falling into the table. Misha sits him back down in the chair and presses the back of his hand to Jensen's forehead. Jensen doesn't have the energy to push him away.

"You're pretty warm," says Misha. "I think you're sick."

"'m not sick," mutters Jensen. He grabs the edge of the table and pushes himself up, managing to stay upright this time.

Misha's watching him intently, as though he's afraid Jensen will collapse if he takes his eyes off him for a second. He hands Jensen a bottle of water that's drenched in condensation. "Drink this." Jensen rolls his eyes a little but does as he's told.

A PA shows up at the door, obviously tasked with getting their asses moving, and Misha glances doubtfully at Jensen. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'll survive," Jensen answers.

He manages to tough it out through the morning, but by the time they break he feels like death warmed over and he's sure he looks it too. Every one of his muscles aches, his head's killing him and he's so weary that the four layers he's wearing feel like they're made of lead. He's going to kill Jared. After he sleeps for about a year.

Jensen's not required on set again for a couple of hours, so he goes into his trailer and collapses on the couch, not even bothering to take his shoes or his jacket off. It's kind of cold in here, anyway.

He wakes up to voices and something cold in his ear. He pries his eyes open to see the set medic standing over him and Misha hovering behind her. "What the fuck?"

The thermometer in his ear beeps and she clicks her tongue when she reads it. "102.4. I'm sending you home."

Jensen doesn't have the energy to argue with her. "Yeah, all right."

*~*~*~*~*

When he gets back to the house, Jensen just barely manages to drag himself up the stairs to Jared's room. Jared's fast asleep and he sounds a little less congested than before. His cheeks are a little less flushed as well and Jensen's relieved that Jared's health seems to be on an upward trajectory at this point.

He realizes, though, that there's no way he's going to make it to his own bed. He's beyond exhausted--the stairs robbed him of his last bit of energy--and he can hardly see straight. He gathers up what little remaining strength he has and struggles out of his shoes, jeans and jacket. Then he crawls into bed beside Jared and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

When Jensen wakes up again, the sun is setting and the bed is empty save for him. He coughs and pain explodes behind his eyes. Jesus. He's going to fucking kill Jared--in a few weeks, when he can move again.

"Hey, you're awake," comes a raspy voice from the doorway. Jensen looks up to see Jared holding a bottle of water and the box of Theraflu. He walks slowly but steadily over to the bed and sits down beside Jensen. "You need help sitting up?"

"You shouldn't be up," Jensen tells him. His own voice sounds like he's been gargling with ground glass.

"I feel better," Jared replies. "Not a hundred percent yet, but I can get out of bed without help, which is more than I can say for you." He sets the water on the nightstand and slides a hand behind Jensen's back to help him up. Just that little bit of movement makes him dizzy and he squeezes his eyes shut. Jared shifts the pillows to prop him up and pops two pills out of the blister pack. He hands one to Jensen and keeps a hold of the water bottle until he's sure Jensen won't drop it. Jensen swallows the pill, but it provokes a coughing fit that makes him double over and see stars. Jared claps him on the back with one massive hand until he stops.

"God, that sucks," Jensen whispers, his voice refusing to cooperate. "I hate you."

Jared gives him a small grin. "Sorry, man. I was really hoping you wouldn't get this." He holds out the second pill. Jensen swallows hard--and fuck, does that ever hurt--and accepts it. He manages to choke it down without coughing up a lung this time, and for that he's grateful.

"You _infected_ me," says Jensen. He tries to glare at Jared, but that's hard when he can barely make out Jared's features.

Jared taps the bottle of water in Jensen's hand. "Drink. You need the fluids."

"Yes, Mom."

Jared's phone rings. He grabs it off the dresser and goes out into the hall. Jensen takes a few more sips of water and then sinks back into the pillows, spent. Keeping his eyes open is too much of an effort, so he allows them to fall closed.

It seems like only a second has passed, but when Jensen opens his eyes again, it's pitch-dark outside and he can hear a voice outside the door, a male voice, but it's not loud enough for him to make out.

The voice stops and a figure appears in the doorway. He squints up at what looks like...Misha? But why would Misha be in their house? Misha doesn't even know where their house is.

"You're not really here," he tells Misha. "I'm delirious. You don't know how to get here."

Misha smiles. "Jared called me. He said he wasn't up to taking care of you all night and asked if I could help."

"Don' need you," Jensen murmers. "'m not like him." He yawns, which turns into a long, painful bout of coughing.  
Misha disappears, then returns with a small paper bag. He sets it down on the nightstand and pulls out a small brown bottle. Jensen narrows his eyes. "What's that?"

"Codeine cough syrup," Misha answers. "It's better than the over-the-counter stuff. I had some left over from awhile ago." He measures out a dose and hands it to Jensen. Jensen downs it, but makes a face at the awful taste. Misha grins and hands him his water. "Yeah, it's kind of nasty. Sorry."

"You tryin' to kill me?" rasps Jensen.

Misha chuckles. "Damn it, you discovered my evil plan."

"Think Jared beat you to it," Jensen replies. "He gave me the plague."

"Yeah, he said he was sorry, by the way." Misha adjusts the pillows and shifts Jensen around so he's lying down. He smirks as he pulls the comforter up over Jensen's shoulders. "Want me to read you a bedtime story?"

"Better watch it or I'll cough on you." Jensen manages a shadow of a smirk himself. "Eric would freak if all of us were out."

"Jared's going in tomorrow," Misha informs him.

"No, he's not." Jensen tries to sit up, but Misha stops him. "Go talk some sense into him."

"He's over the worst of it," says Misha. "And somebody's got to pick up your slack, you lazy bastard." But he's smiling when he says it.

"Hate you," Jensen mutters sleepily.

"I know," Misha replies, smiling softly. "Go to sleep, loser."


	2. In Sickness and In Health

The two hours before dawn are quite possibly the most humiliating of Jensen's adult life. Not only does he need Misha to practically carry him to the bathroom, he needs Misha to keep him upright when he gets there. Jensen wants to melt into the floor, both literally and figuratively. He apologizes--or tries to, but it ends up a kind of incomprehensible slurred mess--after Misha gets him back into Jared's bed.

Misha smiles softly. "Don't worry about it," he says, laying one hand on Jensen's forehead. His eyes widen and he sits up stock-straight. "Holy fuck, you're hot."

"Tha'ss wha' they all say," Jensen murmurs weakly.

"Yeah, I bet. Where's your thermometer?"

"Jay broke it."

Misha frowns. "Well, we definitely need one." He stands up. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Jensen makes a small noise of assent and closes his eyes.

Next thing he knows, there's something cold on his head and God, it feels so fucking good. He moans a little and drags his bleary eyes open. Jared's leaning over him and he smiles when Jensen looks up at him. "Hey, baby. How ya doin'?"

"Bad," Jensen replies and coughs harshly.

Jared's smile falters. "I know. I'm sorry." He brushes Jensen's damp hair back from his face. "I wish I could just snap my fingers and make it all go away."

"Me too." Jensen feebly tries to kick off the covers. "'s so hot," he groans.

Jared pulls the heavy comforter off of him and drops it over the far side of the bed. There's a blur of movement Jensen can't follow and then Jared places another cold compress at the hollow of Jensen's neck. "That better?"

"Mm-hmm." Jensen drifts off for a while, lulled by the wonderful coldness and Jared's soft voice murmuring soothing nonsense.

*~*~*~*~*

When the dogs alert Jared to Misha's arrival, he breathes for what feels like the first time in half an hour. He jumps up and charges halfway down the stairs before the coughing fit that overtakes him reminds him that he's not actually out of the woods yet either. He shakes it off quickly, though, and grabs the plastic drugstore bag out of Misha's hand before he notices that Misha is also carrying a big bag of ice. Jared's eyes widen. He never would have thought of that; apparently Misha's superior intelligence comes in handy for more than just crossword puzzles.

Jared digs the thermometer out of the bag and dismantles the packaging. Jensen's eyes are open, but he's pretty out of it. Jared waves a hand in front of Jensen's eyes. "Hey, Jen, you with me?" The sound Jensen makes is almost too soft for him to hear. He holds the thermometer up so Jensen can look at it. "I need to take your temperature, okay? Open up."

Jensen manages to do as he's told and Jared slips the thermometer under his tongue. The few seconds it takes to produce a reading seem almost interminably long. Finally it beeps and Jared takes it back. He looks at the reading it knocks the breath out of his chest as effectively as a punch in the gut. 104.6. _Jesus fucking Christ._

There's a noise behind him and Jared turns to see Misha with a box of Ziploc bags and the sack of ice. "Dude, he's fucking _burning up._ I think we should call an ambulance."

"We shouldn't have to," Misha replies so calmly that Jared wants to shake him. "I know what they'll do for him at a hospital, and we can do most of it here. If we can't break the fever in four hours, we'll take him then. But I think we can."

*~*~*~*~*

Misha opens the box of sandwich bags and hands a few to Jared. He takes a couple for himself and opens the bag of ice. Wordlessly they fill the bags with ice cubes and seal them shut. Misha stands up, but gestures at Jared to continue. Jared watches as he props Jensen up and coaxes him to swallow a cupful of liquid medicine and after that a bunch of water. Then he gets up and turns to Jared. "Linen closet?"

"Second door on the left," Jared answers. He closes the bag in his hands and then asks, "How many of these do we need?"

"That's good," Misha replies over his shoulder as he leaves the room. He comes back with most of the remaining clean towels and spreads them out on Jared's side of the bed. Then he nods at Jared. "Help me move him."

Together Jared and Misha get Jensen settled on top of the towels. Jensen's glassy eyes don't focus or track their movement in any way. Jared perches on the edge of the bed and strokes Jensen's blazing hot cheek. He hopes to God that Misha knows what he's doing. How much more of this can Jensen possibly take?

Misha sets two bags of ice on the bed. "Put those under his arms." Jared numbly complies. When he places the first bag, Jensen cries out weakly and then starts coughing. Jared freezes, staring helplessly at Jensen as he struggles for breath. "_Jared._" Jared snaps to and shoves the other bag into Jensen's right armpit. Misha drops a whole armful of bags on the bed and crawls in next to Jensen. "Put two behind his knees," he instructs Jared.

The sound Jensen makes when Jared does as he's told gives Jared goosebumps. It sounds like the time Steve stepped on Harley's tail. He looks up at Misha, who's sliding a bag behind Jensen's neck. "I think we're hurting him," he says, unable to keep his voice from shaking.

"Talk to him. Keep him calm." Misha's voice is perfectly level and as devoid of emotions as Castiel's. Misha puts two bags on each side of Jensen's torso and one between his legs.

Jared grabs Jensen's hand and squeezes it firmly. "Hey, shhh, it's okay. I know it sucks, baby, but hang in there--we're gonna make you better." Jensen's eyes sluggishly find Jared's and Jared beams. "That's it, Jen, focus on me. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here with you."

He's so intently focused on Jensen that when Misha taps his shoulder, he jumps. Misha holds out the water bottle, which is only about a third of the way full. "Give him the rest of this." The mattress shifts as he climbs off the bed. "I'll be right back. You're doing great, Jared."

Jared nods and turns back to Jensen. "Here, I've got some water for you. Take it real slow, okay?" Jared carefully tips a small amount of water into Jensen's mouth and watches his throat as he swallows it. Jared grins. "Good job, man. Little more." He keeps up the litany of encouraging nonsense until Jensen has swallowed the last drop from the bottle. Jared drops the empty bottle on the floor and runs a hand through Jensen's hair. "See, there, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He smiles. "Although I don't know what I'm doing taking orders from the new guy. Since when do we listen to _him_? Fuckin' bossy as hell, too." He cups Jensen's cheek in his hand. "After this, you and me, we gotta think up a way to get him back. I'm talking a prank of _epic_ proportions. He needs a good story for the cons, anyway." Jensen's lips twitch in a flicker of a smile and Jared grins ear to ear. He hears Misha on the stairs and leans forward to brush his lips lightly over Jensen's. "That's our secret though, so don't say anything," he whispers.

*~*~*~*~*

Misha shoves the sack of ice into the mostly-empty freezer and closes the door. Then he turns, leans back against the refrigerator and slides to the floor. After a few deep breaths his pulse begins to slow. He deserves a fucking Academy Award for the performance he just pulled off. Jared never questioned; he'd obviously never doubted Misha for a second. Well, that made one of them. Misha had never been so unsure of anything in his life. He'd been _terrified_.

Misha exhales and pushes himself up off the floor. His legs don't feel quite so much like jello now. Time to go play the hero. All he needs is the red cape and the spit curl to complete the image.

When Misha enters the bedroom, Jared's sitting cross-legged on the vacant side of the bed. He looks at Misha over his shoulder and grins. "I think he's a little better."

Misha nods. "Good." He leans against the dresser. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Jared frowns. He turns back to Jensen and Misha watches the conflicting emotions play across his face. Finally he says, "You'll wake me up if anything happens?"

"Of course," Misha answers, only half lying.

Jared still looks dubious, but he nods slightly. "Okay." He lies down facing Jensen and Misha has to smile. He doubts Jared ever goes to sleep without knowing exactly where Jensen is.

Nothing to do now but watch and wait. He clears a space on the dresser and hoists himself up to sit on it. Through the crack in the curtains he can see that it's nearly dawn. It feels like it should be about noon. He's supposed to be on set in three hours, which coincides with the deadline he imposed for lowering Jensen's fever. The Powers That Be aren't going to be happy with him, but he's not leaving this house until he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt Jensen will be okay.

Watching the boys sleep and the ice melt is...well, exactly as exciting as you'd think. He recites fragments of Shakespeare in his head to amuse himself, then switches to Chekhov when he runs out. He's halfway through the prologue to the Canterbury Tales that he had to memorize in Middle English for a college lit class when the clock finally indicates that the hour is up. He takes the bags of water to the bathroom and dumps them out in the sink. Back in the bedroom he locates the drugstore bag and takes it down to the kitchen. He takes out the mortar and pestle and the bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen and crushes four pills into powder, which he puts in a glass of sweet tea.

Waking Jensen isn't as difficult as Misha feared, and there's definite recognition in Jensen's eyes when he does. He helps Jensen into a semi-sitting position and piles pillows behind him to keep him that way. He shows Jensen the thermometer. "Let's see how we did, shall we?" he asks lightly. Jensen accepts it and a few seconds later Misha has his answer. 104.1. It's as much improvement as he'd hoped for and he tells Jensen as much. Jensen manages a weak shadow of a smile himself.

"I've got some more medicine for you," Misha tells him after retrieving the glass of ibuprofen-laced tea. "Drink all of this, okay? But take it slow." Jensen's face tightens a little after the first taste, but he obeys like a champ. Misha grins and squeezes his shoulder gently. "Good job. We'll see how you do with that. It wasn't so bad, was it?" Jensen's glazed eyes briefly sparkle with a hint of mischief and he sticks his tongue out a tiny bit. Misha has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud and waking Jared. He shakes his head and taps Jensen's knee. "Ungrateful little bastard," he jokes.

The short, sharp exhalation that comes from Jensen is, he's pretty sure, meant to be the word "bitch."

*~*~*~*~*

When Jared wakes up, he's on the wrong side of the bed. It takes a second for it to all come back to him: calling Misha, Jensen's fever spiking, Misha helping him pack Jensen in ice. It's well after dawn, if the brightness of the room is any indication. He immediately turns to look at Jensen, who's sound asleep half-sitting up. Jared lays a hand on Jensen's forehead. He's still pretty hot, but it's not nearly as bad as it was; he seems to be out of danger. Misha's a _genius_. Or he was a doctor in a past life.

Where is Misha, anyway? He sits up, careful not to disturb Jensen, and finds Misha propped up against the wall wrapped in the comforter, also sound asleep. Jared glances over at the clock. He's pretty sure Misha's supposed to be at work right now.

First things first. Jared goes downstairs, retrieves his shoes, and takes the dogs out. They're wound up, jumping all over each other, and he's sure that they're reacting to the stress of the previous night. He lets them bounce around the yard for a while, then wipes their paws and takes them in. As he's refilling their bowls, his phone rings on the living room table. He puts the food bag away and grabs it just in time.

"Is Misha at your house?" Eric sounds frantic. "He won't answer his phone, and the hotel people hadn't seen him since last night."

"Yeah, he was here all night," Jared answers. "I think he's asleep. I can get him..."

"That'd be good."

Jared jogs up the stairs and shakes Misha awake. He holds out the phone. "Eric."

"Shit," Misha mutters. He yawns, takes the phone, and goes out into the hall.

Jared sits on the edge of the bed and lightly runs a hand through Jensen's hair. Jensen stirs and leans into the touch. Glassy green eyes meet Jared's. "Hey."

Jared smiles. "Hey yourself." He presses a soft kiss to Jensen's dry lips. "How do you feel?"

"Better," he replies hoarsely. "Still shitty, but better."

"Good." Jared spies an empty glass on the nightstand. "You want some water?"

"Sure."

Jared fills the glass in the bathroom sink and brings it back. Jensen shifts and tries to sit up the rest of the way but his arms won't hold his weight. Jared rushes forward and pulls him up, then adjusts the pillows for him. He's breathing a little harder from the effort, which sets off a round of coughs. Jared rubs his back until he settles, then hands him the water. Jensen takes it gratefully in one shaking hand. Jared steadies it for him.

"God, this sucks." Jensen sinks into the pillows, clearly exhausted from just that little exertion. "You owe me, man. I'm gonna own your ass for this one."

"I thought you already did," Jared replies with a grin.

"I don't know, you might have some competition," Jensen teases. "He felt me up, the fucker."

"You remember that?" Jared's shocked. He'd thought Jensen was completely out of it last night.

"Hard to miss a guy shoving an icepack in your crotch."

"He was trying to keep your brain from frying. _Both_ of them," he adds before Jensen can reply.

"Yeah, well, see how you like it," grumbles Jensen. "Just you wait. I know where you sleep."

Jared waggles his eyebrows. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Kinky bastard."

"You know it."

Jensen's about to say something when Misha walks back in. "I gotta go. But I got you the day off." Jared's eyes widen. "You owe me, Padalecki."

Jared grins and glances sideways at Jensen. "That seems to be the running theme here."

Misha hands Jared his phone. "Take care, guys."

"Thank you so much," says Jared gravely. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Misha smiles. "Happy to help."

"Yeah, thanks, man," Jensen rasps.

"No problem. I'm glad you're feeling a little better." Misha squeezes Jensen's ankle. "Rest up and drink plenty of water. I'll stop by later." He pats Jared on the shoulder and leaves.

"He's a good guy," says Jared.

"Yeah." Jensen coughs.

Jared jumps up. "I'll get you more water."

"I don't want water," Jensen replies in a perfect impression of Jared.

Jared chuckles. "What do you want, bitch?"

*~*~*~*~*

On Wednesday morning, Jensen still has a low-grade fever but he insists on going in anyway. "I can't just lay around here anymore," he tells Jared. "I'm goin' crazy. I need a change of scenery."

"Promise me you'll take it easy," demands Jared. "If you need a break, ask for it."

"Sure thing, _Mom_," Jensen replies.

Jared lightly punches him on the shoulder. "Then don't come cryin' to me when you pass out and bust your head open."

"That's a delightful image," says Jensen as he pulls on his jacket.

Once they're on set, things go smoothly for the first half of the day. They're filming indoors, luckily, and for once Jensen isn't the one getting tossed around the room, so he has a pretty easy time of it, all things considered. He's not even that tired when they break for lunch.

They're halfway through eating when Jared says, "Hey, isn't Misha supposed to be here today?"

"Yeah, I think so," Jensen answers. "I've got three scenes with him this afternoon."

"Maybe he's sick," Jared muses.

"They would have changed the schedule, though," replies Jensen. "And we haven't heard anything yet. So he's got to be here."

"Huh." Jared stands up. "Hey, have you seen my phone charger? I thought it was in my trailer, but I couldn't find it."

"That's 'cause you left it in my trailer last week," Jensen informs him. "Come on, I'll get it for you."

When Jensen opens the door to his trailer, he hears noise and assumes he must have left the TV on. That's kind of strange, he usually doesn't do that. He steps inside and stops short when he sees the figure huddled on his couch. "Misha?"

Bloodshot blue eyes look up at him. Misha coughs loudly into the sleeve of Cas's trenchcoat. "Sorry," he croaks.

"You okay?" asks Jensen, frowning. He walks over to the couch and lays a hand on Misha's forehead. It's clammy and much too warm. "Shit, I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to get you sick."

"Not your fault," Misha replies, sniffling. Jensen grabs a tissue and hands it to him. Misha blows his nose, shivers, and pulls the trenchcoat tighter.

Jensen finds Jared's charger and leans out the door to hand it to him. "Go get the medic," he says. "Misha's sick."

"Oh, man, that sucks," says Jared. "Be right back." He trots off towards the set.

When he turns back, Misha's hunched over, coughing and shivering and generally looking miserable. Jensen grabs a hoodie of Jared's that he also forgot last week and wraps it around Misha's shoulders. Misha tries to thank him but the hacking coughs get the better of him. "God, I'm sorry, Misha," he says, feeling stupid and useless.

There's a knock at the door. Jensen turns around to see the set medic standing at the top of the steps. "Come on in," he says, moving aside. The medic examines Misha briefly and it doesn't take her long to declare him unfit for work. Misha coughs and tries to stand up, but Jensen and the medic both reach out and stop him.

"Just stay here," says Jensen. He leans out the door and motions to Jared. "Keep an eye on him. I'll be right back."

Jared nods and enters the trailer after Jensen vacates it. Jensen walks with the medic to the motel set, where Charles and Eric are getting the lighting in order. He hangs back while the medic informs them that Misha won't be working for the immediate future. Eric doesn't even look all that surprised.

Once she leaves, Jensen goes over to Eric. "So, what's the plan?"

"We'll call it an early day," Eric replies. Jensen raises an eyebrow. "I know you could use the time off, too."

"Thanks, man. We both owe you one."

"Take care of him," says Eric. He waves the director over and nods at Jensen to leave.

When Jensen gets back to his trailer, it's empty. He grabs his phone to text Jared, but it chirps before he can flip it open.

_@ wardrobe. brb._

He texts back _ok, c u soon_ and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. It's going to be a long night.


End file.
